Deck His Halls

Part One – Not All Thorns Have Roses

Chapter Three

Disclaimer: It's still December 3. I still haven't found James wrapped in paper in my attic. This sucks.

Author's Note: Not a whole lot to say here. It's really hot in my room right now. Thanks to Isolde Eris, RonandMione4Ever, and Renai-chan for reviewing. sniff I love you guys!

Dedication: I'm dedicating this chapter to 'Lana (Renai-chan). She's pretty much the coolest Lily/James shipper out there. In fact, her helpful suggestions ("Lily: -looks at James- James: -looks at Lily- Lily: You thinking what I'm thinking? James: Oh yeah. Lily and James: -snog like crazy-") have provided much insight as to the coming chapters.

"My life," announced James Potter as he fell backwards onto his bed, "is over."

"James, really . . ."

"Shove it, Moony!" Sirius Black intervened, seating himself regally on James's stomach. "You obviously don't care for Prongs at all. Look at him. His heart is breaking. He is loosing the love of his life to a flowery-tongued ne'er do well and you don't even stop that . . . That . . . What is it you call that again?"

Remus Lupin lifted his tired gray eyes from his essay. "Homework?"

Sirius hissed in disgust. "Shut your nasty little face!" he growled, clapping his hands over his ears. "Why, if James was feeling any better, he'd hex you into oblivion. You ought to give yourself a detention. Shame on you, Moony! What would ever possess you to say such nasty words in the presence of innocent, untainted sixth—FUCK!"

James, no longer amused by the severe impediment on his ability to breathe, pushed Sirius onto the floor. The handsome teenager pouted, rubbing his injured rear. "Really, Prongs. What's gotten into you?"

"I believe," Remus dipped his quill in a pot of black ink and lowered it to the parchment, "it's something about a flowery-tongued ne'er do well asking Lily on a date."

"What?!" Sirius demanded.

"He asked her on a date?" James demanded. "I thought the coward was too much of a . . . I should have planned for this . . . Padfoot?"

"Yessir?"

"Ready the artillery!"

"Yes sir!"

"Moony?"

"James?"

"Prepare the troops."

"Wormtail?" The room was silent. "Wormtail?" James paused, but once again got no response. He threw a heavy-looking something-or-another at the bed where Peter usually slept, but to no avail. "Anyone seen Wormtail?"

Sirius looked up from the stash of dungbombs hidden beneath his bed. "I think I saw him with that one chick."

"What one chick?" James demanded. Remus looked up with interest.

"You know: The one with the face."

"But I though she was seeing the bloke with the nose."

"Nah. That was her sister. She was seeing the bloke with the eyebrows but they broke it off because of that bird with the hair."

"Oh really?"

"What are you two talking about?" Remus demanded, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"You know," said Sirius. "That chick with the face."

"Oh, yes," Remus rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. "How could I be so stupid?"

"Don't worry, Moony."

"Happens to Pete all the time," James assured him. "Now, ready men? We have a party to crash, a baby to boom, a—"

"James?"

"Yes?"

"You don't actually plan on hurting anyone . . ." Remus sounded worried. "Do you?"

"Of course he does!" Sirius piped in, as though it should have been obvious.

"Now, what time did you say this . . . date . . . thingy was?" James looked expectantly at Remus, who shrugged.

"The note said, 'Sparks fly when roses and Lilies collide. Let's meet tonight where Professor Robinson died.'"

"Cheery bloke. I wonder how long it took him to think that one up?"

James began to pace, "I'll bet this is what he's been planning all alone. Yes, yes." He rubbed his hands together. "Get her to sneak out of the castle at midnight . . . And then call a teacher . . . And get her expelled!"

"Um . . . James?" Remus began tentatively. "I don't think he's trying to . . ."

"Or worse! That little son of a—I should have seen it—"

"Prongsie?" Sirius started.

"Yes, yes, of course! When she least expects it, he's going to . . ."

"Cut her hair?" Remus suggested.

"Rape her?" Sirius offered.

". . . Ask her to be his girlfriend!"

"Oh no!" Sirius squealed in horror. "Not that! Anything but that! The poor bloke! He's never getting any!"

James paused in his pacing to stare at his best friend. "Who?"

"You."

"You're crazy. Lily has a deep and undying love for me which she is bound to desire to consummate before my seventeenth birthday."

"You're sure?"

"She'd better. You don't know what it's like to be alone!"

Sirius snorted and shook his head. "Look, mate," he said, sitting up. "Let's take this one step at a time. Let's just get her to date you by, say, Christmas?"

"That's a month away!" Remus objected.

"This sounds like a ("Oh, no." Remus attempted to hide in the corner of his bed.) bet," James grinned. "Ten galleons?"

"Twenty," Sirius said.

"Alright, Remmy?" James looked where his friend sat, very pale, staring at him with wide, gray eyes. He was going to go hungry for a month. Swallowing hard, he nodded. "There's a sport. C'mon, boys. We've got a bridge to burn." He prowled towards the door.

"Er, what?" Sirius tilted his head slightly.

"'I dunno. Sounded cool, didn't it?"

The three boys marched valiantly down the stairs and out the portrait hole, just in time to miss the shrieks of agony coming from the girls' dormitory.

"OW, GOD, POLLY, THAT IS STILL ATTACHED!" Lily Evans clapped her hands to her head in an attempt to save her poor hair from Polly Akin's wrenching hands. In the window, the moon began to slip down towards the horizon, drenching the room in darkness. Ariel Thompson, Lily's supposed best friend, sniggered from a safe distance.

"Hold on, hold on." Polly gave one final jerk of a rubber band and spun Lily around to face the mirror. The red head was silenced. Her makeup was done so that her face was a smooth, milky white (except for the stubbornly dark freckles across her nose) and her emerald eyes seemed to shine brightly from the tears of pain. A single perfect, scarlet curl hung down her cheek, as though it had escaped from a bun Polly had managed to make much more elegant than anything Lily had ever done. "Al just loves it when I wear my hair up like this."

"Bloody hell . . ." Lily touched her bare collar bone—Polly had made some "adjustments" to her robes—as though she couldn't believe it was really her reflection. "Polly . . ."

"Just make me a bride's maid at the wedding!" she chimed, pushing Lily towards the door. "Now go. It's not polite to make him wait too long. Knock 'im dead . . ."

"Wait, Lily!" Ariel rushed forward in her tiger-striped pajamas, holding out a glittering silver necklace. "It's charmed. You're guaranteed to meet the love of your life."

"Now who's going so—"

"My sister Alice was wearing it when she met Frank," Ariel insisted, fastening the clasp around Lily's graceful neck. "There. You look perfect. Now shoo, and don't come back until it's good and late, do you understand me?"

Lily turned and was half-way down the steps before Polly called her back again. "You know, darling," she said, biting her lip gently. "I didn't really want you to kill him."

Lily laughed and skipped all the way to the lake. Being sixteen was, indeed, very sweet.

A tall, dark, and (she hoped) handsome figure was waiting for her at the edge of the lake. Suddenly very nervous, Lily walked cautiously along the bank, allowing the gentle waves to lap at her shoes for a good ten minutes before she reached him. She cleared her throat delicately.

Slowly, two pale hands reached for the hood. Her heart leapt into her throat. At last, someone who really understood romance. Someone who was kind and intelligent and in every way the opposite of James Potter in every way. She gasped, placed her hand over her heart, and took a step backwards.

There, standing in front of her, highlighted by the light of the moon, was the grotesque silhouette of Severus Snape. Lily's look quickly changed from one of horror to one of absolute loathing. "You—What a cruel trick! Why would you--?" she couldn't finish her sentence. Before he could part his thin, pale lips, she let out a sob and was running rapidly back towards the castle.

Blinded by her tears, she didn't catch even the slightest glimpse of the small group standing by the doorway. "So," Sirius Black emptied a pouch of golden coins into the hands of a handsome Ravenclaw fifth-year. "You're sure that ten galleons is enough to compensate for the loss of the love of your life?"

The boy grinned. "Plenty! I didn't even write those stupid letters, anyway. My sister did them for me."

"Atta boy!" Sirius patted him on the back and the boy turned and ran all the way back to his house common room. After all, it was very late for a fifteen-year-old to be wandering around when there were ghosts about. Sniggering, Sirius looked up to see his best friend, standing before him in a black cloak with a few flesh-colored pieces of material and a long, greasy-looking nose in his hands.

"I'd say this went well," Remus said, watching the retreating back of Lily's secret admirer.

James, chewing on his lower lip, was silent. "She seemed kind-of upset," he said slowly. "I think we hurt her feelings."

"Not us," Sirius assured her. "Snape. There's no love lost there."

"True . . ." James said slowly, but he didn't sound so certain. He remained silent the remainder of the night, staring up at the ceiling of the dorm until everyone else had already gone down for breakfast. He rose, dressed slowly, and slouched downstairs into the common room, expecting to find it empty.

To his surprise, Lily sat framed by the fireplace, dressed exactly as she had been the night before, except her makeup was gone and her hair fell messily around her slender shoulders. "Snape," she croaked hoarsely.

"What?"

"It was Snape. Snape was the one sending me all of those roses. Snape was the one writing those things. He . . ." her voice broke on a sob.

James's heart wrenched and for the first time, he thought he had a glimpse of what it felt like to be Lily Evans.